


That Will Be All, Mister Stark

by Nat



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-06-08 04:34:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6839248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nat/pseuds/Nat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark gets a late night phone call.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Will Be All, Mister Stark

**Author's Note:**

> Post-Captain America: Civil War fix-it fic. Retconned bits of Age of Ultron that I hated.

Tony startled awake, lines from the screwdriver heads scattered across his work desk etched into his face. JARVIS had let a call through, despite his usual tendency to let Tony sleep when he passed out in the workshop. There were only three people whose call would go through, and with how anxiously he was awaiting updates on Rhodey's current state, Tony wasn't hesitating to answer.

“Go ahead and put it through the soundsystem, J.”

“I can't do this anymore, Tony,” a voice came through, groggy and soft. And feminine.

He sat up immediately, fumbling for his handset, “Can't do what?”

Tony held the phone he found to his ear, leaning back in his seat. He was just relieved to hear Pepper, the weight of the recent events already lifting off his chest at the sound of her voice.

She just sighed sleepily, and he settled in with the handset, waiting for her response, as though not having her on speaker somehow made their conversation more private and meaningful. As though she was closer to him because the earpiece was pressed against the side of his face.

“I can't pretend like you're not my world, as I just sit back and...” she hesitated. “And watch everything go to hell. What's even happening, Tony? Are you okay?”

And wow, wasn't that the million dollar question. Every instinct in his body told him to let out an _of course_ , a _yes_ , an _I'm fine_ , some snappy quip, _anything_...

“No.”

If she sounded sleepy, he sounded _spent_.

“What did I miss?” she asked, a sad smile evident in the tone of her voice.

“Rhodey was paralyzed.”

“ _Jesus_...”

“Friendly fire,” he rambled, “of all things. Friendly fucking fire from the otherworldly powerful being that _I created_. Apparently synthezoids can get 'distracted'. So there's that.”

“How's he taking it?”

“Shockingly well – or, not shockingly, you know Rhodey. I wish he'd just be mad, blame me, I mean it is my goddamn fault, directly, indirectly, whatever. Everything I did caused it.”

“Do I need to let him know you said that?”

He let out a breath, a pale imitation of a laugh, his eyes closed, “No.”

“It's not your fault, Tony. You can't prevent everything from ever going wrong.”

“I know.”

God, did he know. He couldn't stop her from leaving him. Couldn't think of any way to put into words that she was more important to him than being a superhero, that she wasn't keeping him from anything important. That he could invent from home, that they didn't need to be apart as she ran Stark Industries and he ran The Avengers. That he _wanted_ to retire.

He couldn't bring himself to drag her down, to be the stone tied to her ankle as he sank.

So when she said he should leave, he agreed. Try to be apart, just _try_. To live their own lives, run their own worlds, and be what the world needed of them.

Tony could hear rustling on the other end, like she was settling, rolling over, sitting up, something. He checked the clock on his holographic display, surprised to see that it was three in the morning.

“What else happened? It's all over the news, but there's a,” she chuckled, humorlessly, “very frustrating lack of details.”

“Half the team and I... aren't exactly on speaking terms.”

“Steve?”

“Yeah, uh, that's done,” he choked back a lump in his throat, and his eyes welled up with tears, and _wow_ , okay, they were going there, “Finished. Don't expect a Christmas card from him. Or, you know, maybe _you_ should expect one, I don't know the policy on sending greeting cards to the ex of the man whose parents your best friend murdered while you kept it secret for him. Miss Manners columns don't really cover that sort of thing.”

“Oh my god, Tony, _what_?” And, yeah, now she sounded more awake.

“Yeah, you're right, maybe you shouldn't expect a Christmas card from him. Maybe just a nice little e-card, with a reindeer dancing to a low bitrate, royalty-free, carol. That'd be a nice way to get across the 'I know you two are broken up, so we're still cool, right?' message. Then again, I don't know if he'll be able to get an Internet connection on the lam.”

“So neither of them were even arrested?”

“Nope.”

“How can they just...” she sounded _angry_ , before she trailed off. Tony heard her breathing heavily, like when she was getting frustrated and trying not to say anything rash. He pictured her doing that thing she'd do during a stressful phone call, when there wasn't anyone around, where she'd pinch the bridge of her nose between her fingers and close her eyes.

He hated that he was causing her stress, and decided he'd lay off and keep the heavier things to himself. It was nice to be able to visualize her doing something so familiar to him, though, even if he was the one stressing her out.

They fell into an easy silence, and Tony strolled over to the couch in the corner of his workshop. He laid down, and as soon as his head hit the arm of the couch Dum-E was over there, in his face, trying to hand him a pillow. Chuckling, he accepted, and shoved it between his injured shoulder and the back of the couch. Dum-E chirped happily, and nodded his claw. Tony patted him.

“Dum-E says hi.”

“Tell him 'hi' back,” Pepper said, amused... “Tell him I miss him,” she said, more solemnly.

“You hear that? She misses you, I don't know why, you're a disaster,” he said, poking at the side of Dum-E's chassis.

Ignoring the insincere insult, Dum-E started cheerfully grabbing for the phone.

“Cool it buddy,” Tony said, “go over there! Go make sure U isn't making a mess.”

Dum-E obliged, wheeling off to the kitchenette in the corner of the workshop to see what his brother was up to.

“I miss you, Tony,” Pepper said softly. Then, “I'm sorry, that's not fair. You wanted this and I–”

“No I didn't.”

If she wasn't awake and alert before, that did it. Sudden rustling and a click sounded through the earpiece of the phone.

“Tony. What do you mean? We discussed this before we went through with it, and you have The Avengers–”

“Had.”

“– _Had_ , Jesus, Tony, you _had_ The Avengers to deal with, and we decided–”

“Terrible decision, Pep, really, I miss you.”

She let out a sigh, and if she wasn't doing the nose-pinching-thing before, she was definitely doing it now. So much for trying to keep it light.

“But you have a company to run,” he said, trying to ease off into lighter territory. “How's that going?”

“Don't try to change the subject.”

“I'm not trying to change the subject, I _am_ changing the subject. How's your company doing?”

“ _Your_ company,” she corrected. He could make her CEO but he wasn't about to get away with trying to pass the whole thing off to her. “It's been taking care of itself. Ever since Iron Man has been in the news again our stocks have been going up. Everyone wants a quote, though, so that's been a good excuse to stay holed up in my office with all my lines on hold and the news on, trying to find out what's going on, since you wouldn't just _call me and tell me_.”

“I thought you said all your lines were on hold.”

“Funny. I wouldn't think that would apply to my significant other who just happens to be the one who invented our call forwarding system.”

“We broke up, remember?”

“And why was that?”

“Ah,” he nodded. “You circled it back around. Clever.”

“Yup.”

Tony didn't say anything, just picked at the frayed edge of the pillow Dum-E had handed him.

“Tony.”

“What do you want me to say, Pep? That I went along with the breakup because I thought it was what you wanted? That I miss you? That I'm going crazy without you?”

“Tony...”

“Yeah, Pepper?”  
  
“Tony, are you just saying that because of what's been happening recently?”

“Maybe,” he said, before correcting himself, “No, not really.”

They fell into silence, again.

Tony shimmied up the couch, and leaned his head back over the armrest. Upside-down, he watched Dum-E and U, trying to figure out what they were doing with the faucet. It looked like they'd been trying to do dishes, but had since given up and resorted to fighting back and forth between turning the water hot or cold.

“Things have really fallen apart, haven't they?” Pepper asked, finally.

“I mean you said the stock was up, so that's good, right Boss?”

“Actually, I think I need to visit a company property. It was a warehouse, but I'm hearing outlandish rumors it's being used as some sort of compound for superheroes. Apparently Iron Man himself is holed up there.”

“Wow, _the_ Iron Man?” Tony said.

“According to my sources.”

“I heard he's a schmuck, nothing without his boss, scrambling to answer phone calls at three in the morning. Pathetic.”

“Well, I heard he's pretty great. At least, in my opin– wait, three AM? Sorry, Tony, I didn't realize the time. I hope you've been getting some sleep.”

Dodging the question, he asked “Why did you call me, anyway? You could've called Rhodey, or, I guess he's not answering his phone right now. You could've called Natasha. She would have told you what happened, you know she has a soft spot for you.”

“I told you, I miss you.”

The left of Tony's lip quirked up in a half smile. He didn't quite believe it, but it was still nice to hear.

“Even though I was calling JARVIS,” she continued, “and it was his idea to patch my call through to you instead. Not that I mind. I've gotten an excuse for a business trip down to this supposed Avengers Compound out of this. Apparently there was a misunderstanding I need to sort out.”

“Business?”

“Pleasure. Just don't tell the company.”

“Sure thing, Boss,” he said with a smile, his eyes wet, not really believing where this call had gone.

“Book me a car?”

“Of course.” Driving one of his own cars out to pick her up should count. “Will that be all, Miss Potts?”

She laughed, sounding genuinely happy.

“That will be all, Mister Stark.”


End file.
